They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

But the elusive "they" never cover the rules of two beholders.

Is one beholder's opinion more credited than the other?

Has the older sister set the bar too high?

Age does matter in circumstances of love,

But does it define limits?

Can the younger sister love more deeply than the older?

The swims in the heat of the day,

The runs to the store, fifty-five miles an hour on dirt roads,

The same greeting: "Hey yourself."

That meant something.

The interactions so simple,

Yet so new,

They tallied up.

She spent more time with him.

And time is precious.

She knew him when he was not pretending to be a man.

Oh no, she knew him first as a boy,

Then as a man. The man that lies in a grave.

Did her older sister ever know the boy,

Or did the concept of age cloud her judgment too?

Dani understood the true grief of the death of Court Foster,

Better than her older sister, better than anyone.

Because Dani saw Court as a boy, something only a girl can do,

And Dani saw a boy buried, saw youth mangled.

The first boy that made her feel like a woman was gone.

If love was for the older, she asked herself,

Why grow up?

If this is love, who would want it?

Dani knew that we are all no more than children,

And a child died the day they put Court Foster in the ground.

Dani understood the situation.

Ironically, Dani was the only one who understood.

She wasn't too young.

She was just young enough.